


safe practices

by lokh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Illustrated, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokh/pseuds/lokh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in my ongoing attempts to promote safe binding habits during sports and recreation, the karasuno volleyball team finds themselves barred from wearing binders during practice and play (which, honestly, you shouldn't be doing anyway). tsukishima kei is less than pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe practices

**Author's Note:**

> reupload from [here](http://lokh.tumblr.com/post/123543558810/sorry-if-this-is-a-bother-but-um-have-you-ever)

“Hey, Tsukki! What’s the holdup? Gotta throw up or somethin’?”

“ _No._ And don’t call me that,” but his words have about half less snap than usual, and his words are short and clipped in a way that reminds Tanaka more of a kid who only just realized they inhaled helium _after_ they started talking, as opposed to the usual snarky Tsukishima.

“Well, I’m coming in,” Tanaka says, unnecessarily, and he opens the still ajar door the whole way to reveal a still completely dressed Tsukishima. “Dude. Aren’t you gonna change?”

“Yes,” he grumbles, but makes absolutely no move to actually do so. Instead, he continues to sit on the floor, motionless, looking not only disgruntled (which, obviously, was a common look on his face), but also really, _really_ uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Tanaka says, warily, fearing for his shoes. He finds himself way more worried than he should be when Tsukishima doesn’t answer _at all_.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

Tanaka sidles up to him, plopping himself down and waiting. Tsukishima continues to look thoroughly uncomfortable, and he’s not sure whether it’s just the light streaming in from the window or his own eyesight, but Tanaka is _sure_ that his brows are furrowed in what seems to be frustration.

“Don’t see why I shouldn’t bind,” he says, finally, still not looking him in the eye. Tanaka raises his eyebrows. “S’not like I’m exerting all that much effort, honestly. It’s not like I have to jump as high as shorty, after all.”

Despite himself, Tanaka snorts. 

“Geez, you hung up about that spiel Ukai-san gave us? Don’t get so worked up about it! It’s not like anyone’s gonna judge. Plus, do you wanna end up on the floor like Hinata? Kageyama’s _still_ pissed.”

Tsukishima finally turns to look at him, but his eyes say nothing but ‘done’ and ‘exasperated’. “Please. I couldn’t _care less_ about what _they_ think.”

And Tanaka is about to express just how much he doubts it when Tsukishima shifts, curling in further to himself as he grips his arm tighter, back a perfect arch to conceal the curve of his torso. Tanaka stares, long enough that Tsukishima looks like he really _is_ going to change, just to avoid this awkward silence, long enough that Tanaka starts to feel guilt chewing at the bottom of his stomach.

“ _Ugh_ ,” he groans, and Tsukishima almost shouts in protest and surprise when he abruptly moves to pull off his own shirt. “Ugh, okay. Noya-san was probably going to notice anyway, and I actually _did_ listen to what Ukai-san and Takecchan was saying.”

And it’s Tsukishima’s turn to stare at him, eyes wide, when Tanaka pulls his shirt off to reveal the binder he’d been wearing underneath the whole time.

“ _Tanaka-san-”_

_“_ I know! I know! I’m taking it off,” he interrupts with an almost-whine, resignation dragging his words out like a recalcitrant child. “I get it. I shouldn’t be going off at you when I’m off doin’ this, or whatever.”

At the sound of the zipper, Tsukishima finds his focus on a blank space of wall faster than he could acknowledge his embarrassment, and he only turns back at the satisfied huff the second-year lets out after (presumably) finishing dressing.

“There. See? Not fun, but I also won’t get yelled at, which is most definitely not fun. Well, I won’t if you hurry up.”

Tsukishima stares at him, for a moment, and has to drag his eyes away from focusing on Tanaka’s large… chest, and it’s probably because he’s concentrating so hard on _not_ concentrating on it that he doesn’t realize Tanaka’s still watching him until _after_ he’s pulled his shirt off.

 

 

“Dude. That is _not_ gonna be fun to practice with.”

Tsukishima _flushes_. “As though _you’re_ in a position to say something like that, Tanaka- _san_!”

“No, I mean,” Tanaka says, emphatically, leaning a bit too close for Tsukishima’s comfort. “Don’t you have like, a sports bra, or something? I mean, you don’t really have anything _there_ -”

And Tsukishima’s face goes _way_ too hot than is probably safe in the tinderbox that is the clubroom, but rather than the offense and humiliation he’d usually get from such a comment, at Tanaka’s clear expression of _envy_ , he’s just plain embarrassed (and, if he’s honest, a touch relieved).

“But, like. Come on. That’s still gonna hurt. Even if you don’t have to jump that high.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got,” Tsukishima mumbles, and he’s really wishing he’d just gave up any remnant of self-consciousness he’d had and just left for practice. There’s absolutely _no way_ that would’ve been any more embarrassing than the current situation. 

“Dude. Seriously. I’ve gotta take you out and show you some good brands. If you wear ‘em right, it’s basically the same as binding! Well, for you, maybe. Doesn’t really work so well for me. The point is, it’s basically the same, except you can _actually breathe_. And, y’know, _run_.”

The rest of his rambling is lost to Tsukishima. His mouth is moving, making sound, and he’s clearly _there_ , close enough that Tsukishima can feel the warmth emanating from his body, but nonetheless Tsukishima finds himself stuck on the incessant thought, ‘ _there’s no way this guy is real’._ The weight that was in his chest plummets to his stomach, but his heart feels lighter, too light, enough to make his head feel like it’s floating and leaving his only coherent thought being, ‘oh no, oh _no_.’

“Tanaka-san,” he says, before he can stop himself, because his autopilot happens to be his one and only defense mechanism, sarcasm, “could you be asking me out on a _date_?”

It’s the first time he’s ever seen Tanaka shut up so quickly.

(Or look quite so _red_.)

“ _You_! Weren’t you listening to your _senpai_?!”

But it’s not a no, the warm palm of his hand not a rejection, and the pinks of his ears speak of a fluttering hope as Tsukishima pulls his sweater on and pulls himself up. Tanaka’s hand in his is a heavy reassurance, and despite himself, Tsukishima finds himself _smiling_.

“Geez. Whatever’ll make you hurry on up to practice, you lazy ass.”


End file.
